


Decadence

by zetsubou_hana (Sakura_no_Miko)



Category: X/1999
Genre: Alternate Personality, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Study, Darkfic, M/M, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-16
Updated: 2006-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakura_no_Miko/pseuds/zetsubou_hana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting between Seishirou and his beloved "Decadence"…and I can't say more than that without ruining the story. [Dub-con, some violence]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decadence

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Category: Fanfiction  
> Fandom: X/1999  
> Pairing: Seishirou x Decadence, Seishirou x Subaru  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: sex, non-con, AU, abuse, male/male  
> Disclaimer: I do not own X/1999 or any of its characters. I make no profit from this fan-work.

  
He was beautiful, there was no doubt about it.

They might think it strange that I could say such a thing. But beauty is no part of emotion. Or, too put it more clearly, even I am able to see the beauty in the glass before I destroy it, utterly and completely. Yes, there is beauty in the gentle curves, so skillfully made by a man of great talent. Beauty in the way the light hits the colored glass, almost translucent but for the slightest pigmentation. Beauty in the reflection of his ever-widening eyes as he remembers the last time I crushed the glass at his feet.

And even if I could see no beauty in anything else on this dying earth, I might still see it in him.

That white-moonlight skin, highlighted in black and blue and purple. Such contrast there, such bizarre oppositions. White innocence of the lamb in his skin and red blood dripping down, pooling into such delightful markings all over his chest, his neck, his back.

The bruises were all quite accidental. I did not underestimate his strength, nor my own—it was he who allowed such brandings. Hardly an accident, on his part. And who would ever guess that a person would undermine his own strength in such a crucial battle?

I know he loves it.

Emotions are for fools, I say. Who embodies it better than he? His love, his hatred, his joy and sorrow—crushing, suffocating, trapping him in impenetrable darkness until his mind saved itself only by committing a most brilliant and, dare I say, beautiful, suicide.

Thus was my Decadence born.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knew he was coming. It had been too long since his last arrival.

How well I knew him, expecting everything he wore. The faded, dull coat, ratty and worn beyond reasonable use. The hood shadowed his face, for he did not want to seen be seen, and yet he revealed everything to me.

"You've been waiting?" he whispered seductively, teasingly.

" _You_ could hardly keep yourself away," I replied bitingly. I saw the flicker of anger, of fear in his eyes. Delicious. "It's been mere days, has it not?" I continued, knowing full well it had been weeks, even months. I had almost started to _want_ … But it was foolishness. His charms were a pleasant diversion, no different than any other whore's.

"Then why do you wait for me alone?" he whispered, eyes flashing brilliantly, desperately. I had 'accidentally' let the last of my thoughts materialize.

I don't answer him. Let him invent his romantic little reasons for himself.

I rake my eyes over his body, searching out familiar colors and scents. My Decadence. He never changes.

Each finger and toe, covered in golden rings and massive gemstones. They made the most lovely music as they clinked together in my Decadence's clenched hands. The cheap pieces of glass and gold-gilded tin that once covered him are slowly disappearing, replaced, each one, by a memento of mine.

His gorgeous scent, mingled with perfume. "Like it?" he'd whispered, fluttering his long eyelashes exquisitely. It had been so long ago, it seemed. "An aphrodisiac, they say," he'd _purred_ , wrapping his arms around my neck, urging me to inhale the sticky-sweet scent. "Does it work, Seishirou-san?"

The dark, almost gaudy make-up that hid his face and features. Dark shadow around his eyes, pink, virginal blush on his cheeks, and deep crimson upon his lips, somehow making every uncovered inch of his skin stand out even more and his green eyes glow even more brightly. Such beautiful, pouting lips…

"Have you grown impotent in my absence?"

That minx. He smirks at me, as if he believes in his own powers. So unlike Subaru…

He frowns, with an almost violent anger. "Don't…" he gasps out, and, as if to prevent me from having any choice in the matter, there's suddenly the matter of his hot, exquisitely talented tongue in my mouth. He sucks the very air from my lungs.

That 'slip' had not been planned, but there was no use in acknowledging that. The Sakurazukamori doesn't 'slip.' Decadence is so frail, the slightest breeze could make him disappear…and I certainly don't want that. It's bad enough that his visits have become so short, so infrequent, though I would never tell him that.

Exquisitely his hands wander over my flesh, proving the need for clothes useless. I feel naked under his hands, and I know he can see the details of my flesh, burned into his memory over so many nights. Clothes hide nothing from him.

Sweet, sinful decadence. If Tokyo embodies the Babylon of old, my Decadence is certainly her Whore.

But tonight is not the night for slow sensuality. I know he can't stay long, this gorgeous, sensual creature. I see it hidden in his every breath—the slightest weariness and wane. No matter how much I want to clip his wings and trap him in this cage of broken glass, he will always escape. Because…

Insistently, he pulls me against his hot flesh, slowly undoing the ties of his jacket. Nothing lies beneath it, as I knew there would not be. His neck, his vulnerable throat—he yields it to me, confident I will not slit it. The bruises from our last encounter have healed, leaving his bared torso white and pure once more.

"Oh, my Decadence," I say, breathy and hot against his ear, the way he loves it. Fragile creature, so easily pleased.

"Seishirou-san!" he yelps as I bite his neck, neither tender nor violent. So little time, always so little. And he will again be out of my reach…!

I push him roughly against the wall, coat left open, hanging half off his shoulder, covering nothing but his backside and leaving every precious part of him open to my desires. I'll make him scream, and writhe. I'll make him want to stay. He is mine. He has always been mine, this sensual and beautiful and, yes, _decadent_ illusion. He was born for me. He lives for me. And if I don't possess him, he will…

Exquisite, so breathtakingly and wonderfully exquisite. No other word will do.  
He smiles at me, a sensual promise, an open plea for more, so much _more_. As if he has a choice in the matter. I smirk back at him. That innocent look! As if I don't know what he is.

I don't even ask. He's left himself open to me. Open, vulnerable, aroused. They're all the same thing to him. There's no doubt of his desires. He was born for this, for this moment, this utter completion.

His screams mean nothing to me when I devour him. The way he writhes, his head and back slamming into the wall. He'll be in such pain when this is over. But it was his choice. That strange obsession of his…the craving for pain and punishment that birthed him…

The heat of his spread thighs is intoxicating, making the blood rush and thunder in my head. A frequent pain, somehow made into pleasure…that is what Decadence does. He confuses my senses, makes my body react in ways that confound me. I almost feel as if I could…

And the music, the _music_ , the jingle and jangle of those dozen little rings and bracelets and chains on his body! His hands tear at my hair, golden bands around his wrists almost singing, their dulcet tones ringing out each time they clatter against my temples.

His voice, an angel's choir of moans and sighs, harsh commands and words I would never think he knew. Beautiful, yes, this strange and endlessly fascinating creature. Almost unbelievable that _Subaru_ could…

His hot cry fills my ears as he reaches his little death. He does taste sweet, and I wonder if he might have some magic for _that_ as well. Breathless and jubilant, he urges me back up, moaning half-curses at my insistent teasing of his flesh. When I finally heed his pleas, he attacks me with his tongue again, back braced against the wall, a leg wrapping suggestively around my thigh, then higher towards my waist. Insatiable devil, my Decadence. Wicked temptress. Babylon's Whore.

He smiles at me, proud of the epithets.

That smile…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _He smiled at me._

It was certainly Subaru, though I had felt nothing, no warning of his presence.  
An unnerving smile, openly lusting.

His appearance was shocking—was that make-up, hiding Subaru's pale face with garish colors? And one, two—no, four or five chains of yellow, glittery metal, crissing and crossing his neck and chest haphazardly. Rings with gaudy, massive pieces of colored glass. Bracelets like a Gypsy witch.

This could not be him, could it? This common whore?

Despite myself, I let him seduce me. Fumbling touches, speaking of knowledge without experience; sloppy kisses; and eager, eager words. This look-a-like could never be Subaru. It was some illusion, some coincidence.

His hands fumbled with my clothes. It was as if the trance had broken, the pleasant dream of this hedonistic almost-Subaru. I grabbed his hands…  
…and felt the unmistakable scars I had put there…

With a violence I rarely showed, an anger that, for less than a moment consumed me, I hurled him off me. He cried out, raising his hand to a bloodied lip and glaring at me.

…couldn't be Subaru…

His body… I licked my lips. There, that was his taste, despite the sweetened gloss he'd put upon his lips. The stolen kisses, the taste I'd filed away with all the other information about him.

His scent, mingled with a heady perfume.

His eyes, brightened in their passion.

It was his body, certainly, but not his mind. Not this creature. Some incubus or vengeful spirit?

"Seishirou-san," he—that thing—whispered, wiping at the tiny trickle of blood running down his chin. He eyed the drawn fuda in my hand. "It doesn't have to end so soon, does it? You've taken your pleasure of me before, when you knew I'd forget…" Suggestively, he blew a kiss at me. "Those lonely nights, Seishirou-san. Remember?"

"You are not Subaru."

He shook his head. "Believe what you will. Subaru…or something else…" His tongue darted out, wetting his reddened lips. "But what does it matter, Seishirou-san? All that matters is the here, the now. The wants of the flesh, not the," –he chuckled darkly—"emotions _." He shook his head. "Don't you want me, Seishirou-san? Even if I'm not Subaru?" A dark and self-loathing humor in his voice…_

"Who are you?"

The words that damned me.

"Whoever you want me to be."

The words that bore him.

"Whore."

He shrugged, and dared to step near me. Dared to push his body against mine, flushed and aroused. Dared to moan into a hot, wet kiss.

His hands smoothed over scarred flesh. Ancient history, those wounds, but he dared to bring them back to my attention. Audacious little incubus.

"What of you want of me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" A suggestive sway of Subaru's hips, hinting at possibilities that were long since made dormant in me.

"The power of sex is overrated, I'm afraid."

"I disagree."

He collapsed his legs and grabbed me around the neck, causing us both to collapse to the ground, Subaru sprawled out wantonly beneath my body. He licked my lips, grinning like a cat. His flimsy clothes tore apart with the smallest effort.

"Be careful what you wish for," I told him. Then I gave him everything he wanted.

I might have been gentle with him. It was Subaru's body, after all. Surely Subaru wouldn't want his first time on this hard, concrete floor, his tender flesh torn to shreds.

But he felt wrong. His aura, his entire being, feels thick, choking, even sickening. A cloying sweetness and heat. And my Subaru, my Subaru has always been like a breath of fresh air, the wind after the rain.

I spit on my hands, wondering if the threat of such violence might faze him. But he dared me to go on, wordlessly, his eyes dark with lust.  
He screamed.

It was a beautiful sound, from a beautiful throat. I wanted to crush it. Whatever this thing was, whatever its reason, it could not simply take what was mine!

But no matter what I did, he only cried out, wordlessly, and urged me on. He urged me further in my violence. He begged. He wanted. He…

Bright blood splattered on the floor.

Black bruises covered his body.

He voice turned raw, and, finally, he gasped and could speak no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have never felt love, nor hatred.

Not for him or any other being.

Decadence, my sensual little demon. I gave him that name. How he has lived up to it…

His insistent kisses, more like devouring than tasting. The insistent weight of his lithe body, warm and solid. His soft strands of hair between my fingers.  
Nothing could be more different from that time. Instead of cold concrete, a luxurious bed and feather-soft pillows. A silk sheet, clinging around Decadence's back, chasing away the faint chill of the night.

He doesn't ask me to hurt him any longer. My Decadence has finally learned the truth I tried to teach him so long ago—that pleasure is a far worse torture than any pain.

Decadence arches his back, sighing in pleasure before he falls back down, stretching himself out on my chest. "Seishirou-san," he whispers. A devious smile. "Don't make me wait."

"I should say the same to you." I know him too well, now. I can tell, by the slightest intonation of his voice, the way he lazily runs his fingers over my chest, everything he has in mind. He thinks he'll decide our fate tonight. "You're the one who came to me."

"Is that what you think?"

For a moment, I feel something like surprise. That blithe smile of his. As if he's hiding something. Then he laughs, and blows a kiss in my direction. I'm joking, he tells me, in that way without words. Only joking.

I wave a hand at him. "Do whatever you want, Decadence."

"I love that name," he says, reaching over to grab a small bottle of oil. He takes a deep breath of the scent, his eyes growing hazy with the intoxicating rush of chemicals. "It inspires me."

"Don't all whores take a name that befits them?" He huffs indignantly, but still pours a bit of the oil onto his fingers. "And you won't let me call you Su—"

That flash of anger, again. But he says nothing. He refuses to explain, and I…  
I already know the answer.

He escapes the tenseness of the situation by slamming his body down onto mine. He gives me barely a moment to savor the pleasure before he's pulling away, only to slam down again. Painless and bloodless violence. This is his "love."

We groan our pleasure into each other's mouths, twist our hands in each other's hair.

He's never satisfied, no matter how long or how hard I pound into his body. You might think that is part of his charm. No, it's almost insulting. How dare he loose this insatiable little demon upon me…

Subaru…

Decadence's hand falls to my chest, and he slows, gasping, aching, drawing it out into a slow, painful rhythm—beautiful and empty as his smile. He smirks and pulls his fingers up, letting only the edge of his nails rake against my breast. He mimes thrusting them through my skin, as if killing me.

Ah, how easy it is to imagine Subaru, Subaru's beautiful white hand, stained in blood. Exquisite to see him, so vividly, standing at my side, grinning Decadence's grin, a victim at his feet, smiling up at me…

Decadence smiles and bites roughly into my shoulder, a silent plea for attention.

Subaru…dripping red from his fingertips, lifting them up to taste the sweet coppery liquid, darting out his tongue to suckle it.

Hot blood against my skin…

Subaru, kneeling down, smiling and crying…aiming, just a little higher…a hard, smooth thrust, or perhaps a multitude of tiny invasions, slamming through such tender flesh…

…and suddenly it is no longer a faceless victim he so rewards.

For a brief, enchanting moment, I can feel him slam into me, the hot liquid flowing out, his soft tears in my ears. Ahh, so wonderful a fantasy I reach my climax without another thought, my dream-Subaru thrust into me with such force, such beautiful violence.

Decadence shrieks his pleasure, his fulfillment, only a moment later, falling against me, heavy and soaked with sweat. He makes soft "Ah, ah" noises against my ear, refusing to move, even for our comfort.

He doesn't complain when I pull the blankets around us. Perhaps he is too far gone to realize, as I have, that a golden opportunity has presented itself. I smile as his breaths even out, as he falls asleep, refusing to get off me.  
The spell should wear off soon.

Subaru will have no escape from me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _That creature…_

It was Subaru, and yet not.

He disappeared, and I followed. If not for my anger, my confusion, I might have laughed at the obvious limp in his steps, the sheer obviousness of how roughly, how purely, he'd been—to use the colloquial—fucked.

Beautiful.

He went straight to my Subaru's apartment, drawing the key to unlock the door.  
Ah, Subaru…he never did remember to lock his windows. The defensive charms were strangely weak, allowing me into his home without a problem.

A few torn garments littered the ground, doubtlessly shrugged off as I took my eyes off of the creature. Subaru's room was sparse, neat. The slightest whiff of smoke hung in the air. Subaru's steps stopped, and the sound of running water filled my ears. He escaped to the shower.

The smoke grew stronger. And then, I caught sight of it.

It felt like him.

Intricate lines of a spell, and a single lit candle. The shape was unfamiliar to my eyes, but the basic form reminded me of a summoning spell. There was no sign of attack—no, everything was in perfect order. And that could only mean…

Subaru called this thing upon himself willingly, purposefully.

I licked my lips. That put things in a different light.

The sound of water led me to his bedroom, wrapped in a perfect illusion that would bewilder Subaru even in his best state.

It was Subaru who emerged, adorably half-limping and tugging shyly at his bathrobe, even in the "empty" room. His skin was red, scalded, and he had hardly dried himself. His face was marred with faded make-up, stuff that clung to his face despite the soap and water. But perhaps that was for the better, hiding the swollen, blackish bruises that were emerging on his face and body.

He looked so pathetic.

It had been a long time ago, when I had first thought to seduce him. To lay him down, so gently, obscenely gently, on a soft bed, to make him writhe and scream my name in pleasure at the most tender touch.

How differently it turned out…

Subaru moved suddenly, shocking me out of my reverie. He gazed into the mirror on his wall, fingering the bruises on his neck tenderly, even reverently. "Seishirou-san," he whispered, and almost smiled. His hand rose, and he kissed the back, the old scars. My mark on him. His tongue—so delightful recently—darted out to lick at the thin lines of marred flesh. And for an eternal instant, his soft lips graced the unworthy flesh again.  
Then he looked back at the mirror.

His expression twisted, and he turned away, where I could no longer see his face.

A few of those cheap rings still graced his fingers, a chain around his neck. He noticed them at the same moment I did, ripping the rings off and hurling them on the floor, snapping the chain into pieces.

Such exquisite pain. I had not seen such agony in his face since his sister died. A low sob, through his clenched hands. He turned back to the mirror, his face red, shamed.

I would have killed him in that moment, if only to freeze that look upon his face.

Then he screamed. A keening, inhuman wail.

His tender fist smashed the mirror to pieces, scattering glass so far it fell at my feet. He looked dumbly at his hand—torn to ribbons and bleeding thickly—and then back to the shards of the mirror, tears causing the last remnants of the make-up to run own his cheeks, twin streaks of muted muddy color.

He walked on the glassy floor—any cry of pain muted by his tears, any misstep hidden in his limp—and fell onto his tiny bed, a mattress thinly veiled with blankets. Another sob—a long, drawn-out sound that hangs and echoes in the air.

And then, silence.

He curled up, shuddering, blood on the sheets. His face, for a moment, was…peaceful.

His hand began to quiver…to shake…

"Saka—" he whispers hoarsely, the rest of the word cut off as a convulsion seized him, slammed him into the bed, and forced him to arch back up again.

He cried out, louder than even he did in the pleasure or pain I inflicted upon him. Another convulsion, as if he was being split in two. It was sickening to see him writhe like that, a bitter parody of our intimacy. Writhing, screaming, arching and falling to the beat of some twisted, merciless agony.

He whimpered.

I whispered out the length of a rarely-used sleep spell, my heartbeats racing, until I saw him close his eyes completely. Fear. Nothing strengthens a spell like that mad rush, so akin to insanity.

His body continued to move, torn apart by some unseen force. Sakanagi. A brutal, tremendous sakanagi. Subaru had never been the type to risk such backlash before.

Some pity moved me to his side. Or, perhaps, some lingering anger. No one was allowed to harm my Subaru but me. Not even the uncontrollable forces of magic.  
He was mine, and mine alone. Mine to make suffer, mine to make writhe, mine to punish and reward.

I held down his body until the convulsions stopped. The tension melted away, leaving him as limp as death, wounds closed and torn apart again, a mess of blood and paint and stinging sweat.

I intended to enjoy this body again—often and repeatedly, after the taste he had given me. No, Subaru wouldn't escape that easily.

Subaru's wounds were not as great as I had feared. He was so easy to repair. Strange that his mind had never recovered from the shock of his sister's death, when his body mended so easily, stitched together and bound with cloth.

His bed was cruelly hard, no doubt the result of one of Subaru's many nights of guilty self-punishment. A few soft-down pillows, stored in a dusty closet, sufficed for his new bed. A clean sheet soft against his tender skin.

A bed of sinful softness…

He looked pitiful. Helpless. Broken. So beautiful.

I washed away the remnants of colored paint from his face, marveling that he would dare to disguise the white-sheened skin with such ghastly color.

Lying there, the bathrobe thrown aside, in nothing but the thin gauze hiding his wounds, he was the very picture of sweet, virginal innocence. It was not so hard to recall why I chose him, him of all the beings on this planet. No, not hard at all.

My Subaru…

Even asleep, his lips parted for me, his mouth was hot and wet. Even asleep, his body ached for me to touch it. Even asleep, he was so eager, so full of wanting.

He whimpered in pain. Ah, yes. This was far from an opportune moment for such…activities. And yet…even asleep…he bared everything to me.

He couldn't claim the encounter to be completely nonconsensual.

I let him to his dreams, deftly cleaning up the glass. No point in letting him hurt himself any further. A thought hit me, making me smirk. On the pile of broken glass—if only it had been a glass, and not a mirror—I laid my tie, the one Subaru, or whatever it was that passed for Subaru, had torn off in his lusty haste.

I wondered how long it would take him to find a new apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We have an odd sort of affection for one another, Decadence and I.

I hold him tightly, muttering the familiar spell of sleep. He's starting to resist it—a pity, since the sakanagi, no matter how he tries to hide it, is growing worse. The first time had been agony, and this…this was pure hell.

I hiss in pain as his teeth sink, again, deeply into my fingers. I want to protect that talented tongue of his from being hacked short, but hardly at the expense of my own skilled fingers.

Still, as the sakanagi begins to fade, the tender, utterly sensual way he suckles on my fingers, drawing them deeper into his mouth, is a welcome reward.

I slowly draw my fingers away, oddly satisfied by the soft noise they make sliding out of his mouth, and move them to his cheek, his soft strands of hair. Beautiful.

Decadence…

I am addicted to him, just as Subaru is.

Addicted to what he is, to the illusion he represents, to the pleasure he brings.

Sinful, sweet Decadence.

The spell was hard to find, and I wonder that Subaru was able to access it in the crypts of the Sumeragi home. It's a black spell of the highest tier, forbidden for so many reasons that the true words of the spell make up but a fraction of the scroll.

And yet, he dared to use it. My Subaru, so sweet and gentle…

Decadence is an Aspect, Subaru's Aspect—a tool for vengeance. I wondered why he never came after me. His resolve was weak, his skills unpolished, his heart…so beautifully broken. I thought, for certain, he would forget his foolish quest for revenge.

Yet, he had this hidden from me.

The Aspects were not summoned creatures, though the spell was remarkably similar. Aspects were summoned, yes—summoned from the caster's own mind.

Uncontrollable, unthinking, and unfeeling. An Aspect is simply the caster's most hidden desires made dominant.

They were used in war, ages ago. Bloodthirsty beasts called demons, beserkers, beastly men. Even the gentlest man might become a vicious murderer.

I wonder if Subaru wanted that. Or did he always plan for Decadence?

It's foolish, I think, smoothing over his hair. "Did you want to kill me, Subaru?" I whisper. "Did you even know what you were doing?"

His hair is soft, and I enjoy stroking it, petting it. My pet Subaru seems to purr in his sleep. It's addictive, consuming…utterly enchanting. Decadence has given this to me, even if he plots my destruction.

I find that I smile more frequently in Decadence's embrace, cry out more loudly, grow more aroused and end far more satisfied.

I wonder, is that the fault of him, or Subaru?

It's an invalid, illogical question. And yet…

Foolishness. Do you see what he does to me, this creature of wanton flesh and hot blood and sweetness cloying my senses? Subaru, my Subaru, my…

I start to clear off the traces of Decadence from Subaru's form. How often I have watched him, aware or not, in this ritual. This forgetting. This ignorance. The way he washes his face, cleans the sweat from his brow, the color from his cheeks. The slow, practiced removal of each jewel, one by one, tucked away in a little box, each one, until the urge grows too strong to ignore and he must…return to me.

His little fingers, first…wrapped in pure gold and blood-red rubies. Out first encounters yielded those gifts. I was too rough with him, I feared, and did not expect his return, much less his breathtakingly submissive pleas—sweet, labored pleas he cried in ecstasy—for more. I sought those first two rings for him remembering, so vividly, with all the heightened senses of the Sakurazukamori, the bright crimson blood he left upon my bed.

The ring fingers, wonderfully unadorned, the only undecorated flesh Decadence possesses. I recall that night, when he foolishly thought to surprise me. The delightful thud of his body against the wall, pinned with unbreakable chains, reveling in the utter loss of power…

I whispered in his ears as he wept in pain, or pleasure, and slid those two rings from his fingers. "Leave these for your _wedding_ rings," I said cruelly, as I fingered the scars on his hands. He would never marry, for what woman could give him this? What woman would dare to claim this used and abused husk of flesh as her own?

Green emeralds for his large fingers, the green of his eyes, chosen in some cloud of nostalgia. And a jade piece for his neck. A jade's trick, Decadence is. A wonderful trick. Green as envy, green as the wildest, most uncivilized nature—green as Decadence's nature.

And his last fingers, clothed in a luminous pearl, each. Hidden treasures, perfected and matured in secrecy, in the husk of a common, vulgar shell.

Not to say Subaru is anything common or vulgar. Ah, no. Subaru is a pearl, eternally, created in splendor and living in splendor and…dying in splendor.  
The thought is unsettling. Subaru, dying. Subaru, withering away like so many leaves, so many flowers, so many dead and broken humans…

I move my hand to his chest, rubbing gently over firm muscle and sensitive nerves. A faint, irregular heartbeat. Uneven breaths. A sense of weariness, and struggle, and…failure.

There were few accounts of any caster summoning his Aspect more than once. They either died in some foolish attempt, or finished their duty, locking the creatures back into their unconscious. The few who did try to keep the illusion died terrible deaths, sapping their strength to summon their other selves—their better selves—until they finally lay gasping and writhing in sakanagi and exhaustion beyond exhaustion.

Subaru is strong, stronger than anyone, and yet weaker. Even for a young man, at the height of his powers, it is a dangerous spell. And for Subaru's broken soul and fading body…

Ah, glorious Subaru, so much more than I had imagined. I kiss his head, tasting the sticky sweat before I clean him off. His skin glows, faintly, in the few beams of light that come from the moon and stars outside.

Amazing how beautiful he is. That pale skin, sickened, the color withering away from sleepless nights and days without sunlight. Beautiful, ash-pale, moon-pale, crystalline skin. So slender, so tiny, as if I could crush him with one hand. The softness of his body, the slenderness of his limbs—the result of days without food, days of forcing his body to go further and further without any sort of energy. I can trace, with tongue or tooth or finger, the long, blue veins, pulsing with his blood. His muscles are wasting away from lack of nourishment, leaving him as soft and pliable as a rag doll. His eyes are large, set off by puffs of darkness. His voice is ragged with disuse.

And yet he grows more beautiful. Dying, wasting beauty.

To even stand a chance at life, he must forsake Decadence. Forsake him forever. Cast him back into the pits, bind him with unbreakable chains, deep in Subaru's mind and heart.

Subaru is still a fool. A childish, simple-minded fool. How can he think that I would reject him? His happiness is so close, and he cannot grasp it.

Decadence is Subaru, and Subaru Decadence. That sweet lust and desire and exquisite body belong to them both, and if Subaru would only…

But, ah…he would not be Subaru, would he? If he were logical, calculating, reasonable…

I pull him close, a child with his favorite doll. Subaru, you fool.

I would kill you, destroy you utterly, but you would be happy.

You would be mine. You are mine.

He stirs. My breath catches, filled with the excitement like that of unwrapping a gift. A perfect gift. Already unwrapped for me.

His aura fills my senses. So unlike Decadence—so clean and pure, soft and gentle and enveloping.

This won't be difficult. Interesting, but not difficult. How can it be? I know my Subaru in and out, better than he knows himself. Know all the places to touch, to kiss, to suckle upon. His body will respond to me, and that will keep him until his mind submits. Let him try and deny this pleasure.

Let him try and forget it in the middle of his restless nights, his flesh crying out for my touch. Sweet torture. Sweet possession. All for my Subaru, and he need only accept.

He yawns, but his eyes have not yet opened. He is still asleep enough to kiss me back, his lips still swollen and raw, his mouth deliciously wet. He still takes the breath out of me, even with the shortest, most chaste of kisses. His mouth…consumes me utterly, devouring, tasting, suckling. Why does he hide this wonder from me?

His eyes open, hazy and dream-filled. For a moment, he doesn't see to know whether to pull away or pull himself closer. Ultimately, he freezes, eyes wide, and goes limp before shuddering and whispering, "Let me go, Seishirou-san." He swallows, as if he feels sick at the very sight of me.

I let him shift and turn his back to me, obviously wanting to escape, but unwilling to completely break from my embrace. So typical of Subaru, unable to deny his heart but unwilling to forsake his mind.

He shudders when I kiss him, right at the place on the back of his neck that makes him shiver. He gulps, his voice shakily whispering, " _Please_ , Seishirou-san!"

The years seem to melt from him, leaving me to deal with the helpless, confused young boy I knew so long ago. And yet, he is so much more alluring now than then—his body matured, and, though he refuses to admit it, very well experienced.

Nothing I say will convince him, not when he's already hardened his heart to forsake all pleasures, to ignore what should, by all rights, be his fate. His mind is strong, but fragile in some ways.

So why, one would ask, do I even bother with this? Why try and achieve the impossible when the solution could be so simple, so elegant, so…vicious?  
Why—I leaned to kiss him again, this time at the junction of his neck and shoulder, running a few fingers absently against his belly—why don't I say them, those beautiful, elegant words that would make him melt in my arms and worship the very bed I've laid him upon? Say those words—three tiny, simple words—and he would melt into a submissive, beautiful, and utterly willing captive more decadent, more willing, more utterly exquisite than Decadence could ever be.

Ah, the thought makes my blood boil. So many times, I lied to him, and watched him melt. What would one more time do?

But that—another wet kiss that makes him whimper, so lovely—that would be the greatest mistake I could ever make. If I were to say them—say those words he craves so desperately, whispers to himself in the night—and then reveal to him how cruelly, how manipulatively I used to them to make him writhe and beg in our…so intimate night together, Subaru would…

Subaru would…

Foolishness. This is a challenge. A lovely challenge, guaranteed to yield the most amusing and exquisite of prizes. To take the easy way out would cheapen the game, and to break Subaru down so brutally for one night of pleasure… No, I would rather play, and break him piece by piece over many a dark and tempting night. My skills are unmatched, and he cannot resist me.

I will make him enjoy this, make him break down those walls of reason and ignorance with rams of sweet, undeniable pleasure. And even without the words, my every touch will break him down. Every… _loving_ …touch…

Oh, yes… I know those sweet and numerous spots of sweet, electrical, maddening pleasure. And all along, there is his scent, his taste, his aura, pushing me on, and his sweet, muffled cries of pleasure.

He finally turns back to me, begging mutely for me to progress to sweeter spots. Has he submitted so soon? I take possession of his mouth, enjoying the feel of his lips, his tongue.

I'm no romantic. I simply know that he adores being kissing. He—and Decadence, for that matter—would never admit it, hiding behind the desire for more intense activities, but I can feel his heart race, feel him push up against me eagerly, feel the enthusiasm with which he attaches himself to my mouth. And I admit I find it quite sensual as well. Our swollen lips connect, not without some pain, but with far more pleasure. Sweet Subaru.

His arms caress my back tightly. Slowly, but surely, I start to feel the change in him. He slowly—subtly—begins to please me. At first, I realize how sweetly his hands and fingers clutch at my back. Then, a bit of the nails—an indulgence that Decadence knows so well. Ah, yes, I urge him silently, muffling his mouth with dark, passionate kisses. Subaru won't admit Decadence to himself, and yet…

Surely, that's the only way he could know the dig his long, sharp nails into _that_ spot, just under the bone, where the pain and the pleasure merge so temptingly I start to pull him beneath me with an uncharacteristic eagerness. Decadence had used that trick constantly.

  
I pull back to look at him, and he stares back at me, hazy-eyed, for a moment before turning away, letting out a soft, incoherent moan.

I let him away for a moment. Too fast? Or perhaps not fast enough. Too much time for him to think and agonize and talk himself out of it.

He hiccups, and at last I start to make out his words. "No, no," he whispers to himself. "I cannot. I cannot…"

"Subaru-kun," I whisper in his ear, breathy and hot, the way he loves.

He struggles, turning to me, eyes flashing. "Aren't you ever _satisfied_?" he hisses.

"Never," I replied, using that smirk he hates.

He glares daggers at me. Such pretty eyes, a dark, brilliant green, like jewels. We stare in silence, until I start to notice the way his throat is moving, swallowing almost convulsively. "Would you like something to drink?"

He hesitates before nodding. Before I reach the kitchen, I watch as he falls silently against the bed, burying his face in the pillow. I knew he wouldn't leave. I linger another moment, watching him shiver beneath the sheets, his breathing heavy enough to be heard.

There's an unopened bottle of champaign, left over from some foolish affair days ago. I fill half a glass for Subaru and offer it to him pointedly. Subaru doesn't drink, a fact I know well. Even the slightest bit of alcohol will affect him.

It's cheating. An easy way out. But…

He stares at me for a moment, pondering the offer I've made. I don't know why he takes so long. The true decision is already made, whether he understands that or not. He is only choosing whether or not to make this as much his pleasure as mine.

He accepts, and drinks the entire liquid down.

I have never taken Subaru for a fool. When he tips the glass back to me, asking silently for more, it's almost impossible not to show my displeasure with him. He seems startled when I grab the glass away, with an almost-violent passion.

If I had wanted a senseless corpse, I'd have…

His hand caresses my cheek, sweetly, but his eyes are…defeated. Accepting. "Please, Seishirou-san," he says simply. He flutters those long lashes at me.

Ah, so exquisite. I would forgive him anything simply because of his beauty.

"What do you want?" I ask him softly, the moment my breath returns.

He looks at me foggily, through pleasure-dazed eyes, and draws my hand to his chest. He presses it into his skin so roughly, so hard, as if he were trying to pull my arm through his flesh and into his very heart, his eyes looking at me with so much longing and sorrow and pain…and shakes his head, starting to push me away.

He doesn't even know what he wants. I rub my hand sensuously across a hardened nipple, making him moan and release the demon's grip he has on my fingers. He appreciates my mouth and tongue even more vocally.

He pulls me down, atop him, fingers at my hair, my back, and lips crushing against mine. For a moment…an eternal, blissful moment…that feeling…

Subaru doesn't understand. His emotions harden his heart against everything, and logic, reason…it's nothing to him. He smiles at me, almost drunkenly. It is entertaining to please him, to watch his eyes go wide when I caress a spot he didn't know I knew—or didn't even know himself.

Soft and pliable in my arms. Indescribable. Sweet and delectable.

Any preparation is needless, even useless, and yet the ritual is so ingrained in us we do it anyway. Slow, gentle, stroking and controlling the fire. We play our preordained roles perfectly…

My fingers stroke at him, gentle and insistent. My other hand, wrapped so wonderfully against the hard flesh between his legs, that sweet, intense pulse, so much stronger and more certain than his heartbeat.

His hands move around ceaselessly, stroking over my back with lovely little nips of sharp fingernails against the sensitive spots, and then to my chest, playing up rough, calloused palms against sensitive nipples and wandering lower to smooth my belly and tease my own stiff flesh to greater size. He has Decadence's mischievous streak, tempered, but still quite arousing.

There is a moment, a most singular and excruciatingly beautiful moment, when his mind and body connect. Both resist me, and yet invite me further. And then, in that moment, both yield to me, changing in one eternal instance from hard and rejecting to soft and yielding…to accepting and wanting. It is difficult to stifle the moan, and ultimately, I let it out, watching the emotions play across his face. It makes the lie more believable. One moment, where he lets me completely into him without restraint in his body or his heart.

I kiss him on the throat as I sink into him, enjoying the sweet feeling of his flesh. The mechanics of the act are the same, but the sensations generated are never alike. It's an impossible equation.

Everything about him is impossible, illogical, incredible. His emotions. His body. His soul.

Ah, such pleasure…

Even I fall victim to it. That sweet intoxication of my Subaru, the only one who ever dared…

Gentle, almost nonexistent movements slowly move into a steadier pace, full of longing and fulfillment.

"Sei…Seishirou…san…" Subaru pants and murmurs, blushing fiercely.

"Sei," I tell him, though I know he won't listen.

"S…Sei…san."

I muffle a peal of laughter in a gasping intake of breath.

"Sei-chan," he whispers, almost deliriously. His eyes go wide, and he shudders.  
It destroys the moment, the mindless insanity of pleasure, knowing that he is no longer thinking of me. No, he is thinking of _her_. Her, while he's in my arms! Always her. He still hides behind her shadow.

He cannot understand. He will never, never…

I punctuate the thought with a rough thrust. He sighs in pleasure, unheeding. Too far gone. Too far gone because of me. Because of what I have shown him. Because I know him so well that I can make him bare himself in complete surrender with just a word, a touch.

I know him better than he knows himself.

I know him better than anyone!

Even her…

I know him more intimately, know every single nerve and fiber of his being and make him dance to the beat of my own desires, as easily as a doll on a string.

He _needs_ me.

He needs his other half, though he hates me and loves me in his own twisted way, he can't live without me.

You cannot separate…

I want to hurt him, and yet do not. He will hate me even more if I taint this moment I worked so hard for, undo all my hard work for a moment's anger…

He will never understand…

He will never know…never realize…

"Oh, Sei!" he cries out, forcing my attention back, making me witness his pleasure.

He arcs his back, his skin glowing in the pale moonlight, shimmering with sweat and radiating emotion.

My beautiful light…

How can you not see it?

I am his twin, more fully and completely than she ever was. The darkness to his light. The pleasure to his pain. The death to his life. The only one to know him inside and out, body and mind, beauty and sorrow.

It is mindless pleasure, mixed with anger, unyielding and unsatisfied.

He kisses me, so sweetly, so insistently, but without any desperate urging. He wants me to find my own pleasure, even if it taxes his body to the limits.

  
Limits that are quickly losing endurance.

My Subaru…

"Yes," he says gently, smiling that sweet smile I knew so many years ago—the smile of innocence and love and longing—"Yours."

Is that not why he created Decadence?

His mouth is at my neck. I know what he will do—what Decadence always does. I harden myself for a moment, steeling myself against the pain I know he's about to bring, sinking his teeth so lovingly into my flesh.

But…

I moan in…unexpected pleasure when he delicately laves at my throat with his tongue, moving on to cup the shell of my ear with irregular little licks as we move close and apart, over and over, in that brutal rhythm I've started.

He's never done that before. Never anything like that, so gentle, and yet so sensual.

He smiles at me brilliantly, trying to hide his growing weariness. I'm hurting him, aren't I? It's inevitable. It always has been.

But this is… A strange thought crosses my mind. Subaru…I should have known. Decadence was as much hidden as…hider. My brilliant Subaru, able to fool me so easily. To make me underestimate him again.

Subaru is Decadence…but Decadence has never been all of Subaru.

The thought is a brilliant illumination, blinding me in thought and in body, guiding me to the sweet pinnacle of delight.

Subaru is mine. Always and forever, my opposite, my twin, so intimately and completely mine.

His hands are on my face, stroking and smoothing so sweetly. He remembers. He kisses me, gentled with exhaustion, so light I can hardly feel it. But he knows, he remembers the places Decadence knew, the sensitive little nooks and crannies that feel…so exquisite…

He pulls me down, cradling—if such a word is the right one—my face to his chest. His heartbeat is even more erratic, his breaths punctuated with gasps.

I can feel him fading.

But, I recall suddenly, my Subaru cannot fade. He is mine, my other half. He cannot exist without me.

His heartbeat is beautiful, beating at the right moment always. And so soft, soft as a pillow. Subaru is whispering, a low humming, soothing noise. My Subaru.

Perfect in every way.

I long ago learned the strength to resist sleep after sex, to drive away the incessant heat and weariness from my flesh. Subaru must be tired, though, after such…activities…

Yes, that is why he speaks so softly and clings to me, holding me to his heart. He's already…sleeping…

I recognize his words in a moment of perfect lucidity.

He's murmuring a lullaby.

…my Subaru…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light of dawn is bright.

And cold.

It takes a moment to realize that it is not cold; no, rather, it is not warm. The bed is empty, the blankets thrown back, a fading spot of warmth around me quickly cooling now that the object of heat has left.

I catch the scent of soap in the air, mixed with the dampness of hot water. Subaru is bold—not only to dare to abandon me in my sleep, but to stay and use my shower as well. It makes me chuckle. What ever happened to my Subaru, so polite and meek?

He was as much an illusion as the kind veterinarian…and better played.

His movements catch my eye in the dim light of almost-dawn. He draws up that tattered coat of his, and I can nearly feel his distaste at leaving in it—rather, in nothing but it.

He hides his surprise very well when I call out to him, telling him to take his pick of my clothing. I watch him, pulling on the far-too-large pieces of cloth, hiding his form beneath layers of material.

It's better, I think, turning to take a look at the time, to imagine him at home, on those soft pillows, my shirt on his slender frame, perhaps half-undone and rather wantonly falling off one shoulder. Or perhaps to see him writhing, just a little, in the throes of dark pleasures in the night, his mind full of my scent, the memory of my touch, grabbing at the clothes I was giving him and taking a deep, shuddering breath, his wet, sticky hands staining it with his scent.

Hmmm. A lovely image. I shall have to ask Decadence to show me.

He's about to leave.

"I'd rather you stay," I say aloud, taking advantage of the opportunity. We have always parted so swiftly I have never had the chance to seduce Subaru into staying.

After all, this is a foolish situation, this waiting and wanting. I was not sure before, but now I know, in absolute certainty, that Decadence is nothing but a trick, an illusion.

Perhaps Subaru needed him. Needed that mindless, uninhibited side of himself to be drawn out.

But, ah, he does not anymore. He needs nothing but my touch, my caresses. Perhaps a little wine and some sweet words. But he does not need Decadence, not anymore.

"I cannot," he replies without looking back. "You know that."

He shudders when I grab him from behind.

Ah, my Subaru has changed, doubtlessly and certainly. He refuses to look at me, but he spits out his words with palpable anger. "Aren't you happy, Seishirou-san? You've had what you want. Now let me go!"

"I want you to stay," I insist again. He's so adorable, struggling like that.

"For what?" He whispers bitterly. "So you can use me whenever you want? So you can destroy everything I love?" He takes in a deep shuddering breath. "So we can kill each other?"

I nod, though he can't see, leaning down to nuzzle his neck. "But it would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"I…I _can't_ , Seishirou-san!" he cries out, a note of desperation in his voice. "I can't release that…that _thing_ again…!" He takes another deep, sobbing breath. "You know your 'Decadence' can't stay."

Foolish Subaru. I kiss at his neck again. "I want _Subaru_ to stay," I say in one breath, letting it echo in the silence with Subaru's broken gasps.

Why would I want Decadence, that pale shadow, when I could have the real thing? All of my Subaru—all his pain, his agony, his exquisite love—could never be compared to the empty lust of Decadence.

No, I want my Subaru, body and soul.

"I don't believe you," Subaru whispers, slipping out of my arms. He heads for the door, refusing to look at me.

I tell him to wait. I have not yet given him his gift.

I guide him to the shelf where I've kept each one, each little ring and jewel. He looks over curiously. "There's two boxes here," he says, confused.

"The bottom one," I tell him. He starts to reach for the other one. "No, Subaru," I whisper, slowly grabbing his arm in mid-air. He doesn't seem to notice how close we are again. "That is for another time." I can't help but tease him, just to see a little of that blush on his cheeks. "Wouldn't it be naughty to peek? Like a child finding his Christmas present in the closet."

He does blush, but only faintly. He seems to be angry, still. He opens the box, gazing at the lovely sapphire ring I found for him. "For your right ring finger," I tell him, pleased when he tries it on and it fits perfectly. Well, of course it would, but, still, it is a lovely sight to see.

"May I leave, now?" he says, trying to sound harsh.

"One kiss." I smirk. It's such fun to play with him, a fun I've missed, I admit. Watching his expressive face is endlessly fascinating.

He smiles, as if he enjoys the idea, but the moment I lean forward, he pushes me back. I see the disappointment on his face when I regain my balance, though several steps away from him.

"I hate you so much, Seishirou-san," he says, looking back to the shelf. "You think people are just things you can play with, and lives are just things you can de…"

He grabs the other box, smiling as if he's happy to be breaking my rules. So defiant, my Subaru. He must have gotten that from Decadence.

My Subaru, my beautiful Subaru, opens the box, and for a moment, goes still. "This…" He looks at me, mouth agape.

"I want you to stay." One last attempt, though I know he'll refuse. "You know the light cannot live without the darkness."

"I hate you," he mutters, letting the poor box, and its contents, fall carelessly to the ground. With a beautiful sort of bitterness, he hisses, "But the darkness does quite well without the light."

He goes to the door, hesitating just a moment before he disappears.

But that's enough. For now.

He'll be back, eventually, once he's healed and wept and driven himself into such desperation that even the threat of sakanagi can't keep him from summoning Decadence. Ah, that last look of surprise gave me such ideas. That sweet mouth of his could be put to far better use, I think. And, perhaps, I might heighten his eagerness with a little bit of coaxing from my mouth. He does taste so sweet, so delectable.

I smile at the soft rush of pleasure the thought gives me, and reach down to pick up the poor ring Subaru threw to the floor. He should have more respect for his things, especially gifts. It would be his own fault of the diamonds were chipped, or the gold dented, or the band fallen off.

I inspect it, pleased to find no damage done. This is, after all, an expensive ring. One that I am loathe to replace. It took me a long time to consider it and select after.

I'm sure Subaru is tired of all those jewels. This ring, I think, will suffice in their place. Just this one ring; that's all that matters.

I catch the glint of the morning sun off the delicate little diamonds before I place it back in its box, safely tucked away until that day Subaru is to have it.

The day he finally stays.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow.  
> This was my first sexually explicit fanfiction. It was a gift to myself between my 17th and 18th birthdays.  
> I really enjoyed using the first person and writing this dark, even sickening story. The mixture of brutality, sexuality, and desperation, for whatever reason, was appealing to me at that age.  
> I don't know what that says about me.  
> Originally posted [here](http://katana-space.net/Forum/Clampesque/Messages/1142475920.480135) at [CLAMPesque](http://katana-space.net/Forum/Clampesque/) and at [livejournal](http://zetsubou-hana.livejournal.com/2680.html)


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